When he walked to the sea in what the
papers called ‘a bed sheet,’ he was breaking
the law like lightning seeks the highest point
or through a buried speck of metal its
entry to the earth. Why should we not then
line the roads and think of him step by step
under that sun for two hundred forty
miles, arrested at the beach for making
salt? What could be better than preserving?
What other mineral to ensure the
taste of our remaining spices as they
protect us from bacteria, virus,
and parasites, the ever-present from
which we rise to struggle against like
inferiors denying tradition.
Sandra Kolankiewicz TK